


To Heal

by Konoto



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Don’t copy to another site, Fix-It, Gen, Just need to run out of tears first, M/M, Not Avengers: Endgame Compliant, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Not Canon Compliant, Slow Burn, Spoilers, Tags will change as the story advances, endgame spoilers, happy ending I promise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-09 14:03:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18639571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Konoto/pseuds/Konoto
Summary: SPOILERS * SPOILERS * SPOILERSMoving on. It's easy to say but in reality it's almost impossible to achieve. And Steve Rogers has always been a bit stubborn.





	To Heal

**Author's Note:**

> As I mentioned over the tags, this contains AE spoilers. This is also very angsty and slow burn you so please proceed with caution. I'm working on the storyline but the outcome is set, so you can expect a happy ending, that is for sure, but be patient with me.
> 
> This pretty much started given the fact that I could just not accept how things ended, as soon as I was out of the theater my mind went into defensive denial mode, then I went to watch it again and I decided to fix things myself. Who knew it'd take sorrow, rage and spite to get me out of writer's block?
> 
> Huge thanks to [Ava](https://archiveofourown.org/users/misbehavingvigilante/pseuds/misbehavingvigilanterel=) for the beta-reading!
> 
>  
> 
> Trigger warnings: mentions of depression, panic/anxiety attacks and not so recommendable coping mechanisms.

When Steve came back to himself, it took a few moments for his eyes to adjust after the blinding light from the Vita Rays receded, the searing pain that made him feel as if his very bones were melting also faded. He had woken up a new man, a better man. Not a soldier but a good man, Erskine had said. He had woken up ready to do good by others, to fight the bullies and protect the little guy, to defend those who couldn't defend or fight for themselves. And after feeling useless for most of his life, sick and barely able to make a living, Steve had been given a purpose.

When Steve first woke up seventy years into the future they told him they had won. Both the relief of the war being over and the dread of everything he knew having vanished washed over him in a powerful wave that left him breathless. He had woken up and had lost everything. He had willingly made the sacrifice call, never expecting to survive, he had known that. Still he was there, alive and out of time.

The next time, Steve had woken up in a hospital room feeling like he had taken the beating of his life, with Sam right by his side, and the first thing he asked was if Tony was okay and where was he; Tony who had been one among the thousands of targets of Project Insight.

Later on, Steve woke up again but this time it wasn't to a pristine room while hearing an old baseball game on the radio or to a hospital room and the smell of disinfectant, but to the rubble left of the destroyed compound. He woke up in pain and with a startle to Sam's and Bucky's faces, blood-stained and bruised. And upon looking into their eyes, Steve didn't have to ask. He knew.

They said they had won. They had defeated Thanos, they had brought back all those who perished after the snap and those killed by the mad Titan. But they had also lost. It was a loss that had broken Steve down to his very core.

In those weekly therapy group meetings, he had told people to move on and to take baby steps, to fight the small battles as they came and to live day by day. But for him those words were useless as the days bled into each other, the hours passing by like molasses. While the void inside him grew, left by the big piece that had been taken form him, the piece of Steve that died with Tony.

Some days were easier than others. 

Some days he could go by; seeing his friends helped. Sam had tried to get him to talk and seek help, grief counseling he had called it, Bucky just stood by him, occasionally resting a hand on Steve's shoulder, a silent offer of support Steve was free to take if he wanted. He had visited Clint and his family but he had felt so out of place among their happiness he made a hasty retreat with a brief goodbye and a promise of a call he never got around to make. Steve had met Nat and Rhodey at times during the reconstruction of the compound and some brief missions to help in what they could to the countries that allowed them in. He had met Pepper and Happy once for a brief cup of coffee but the silence between them and the forced, brittle smiles they gave him had made Steve look away, making up an excuse neither Pepper nor Happy questioned him about. 

He had seen T'Challa and Shuri a couple of times during meetings with the council that aimed to continue on the course of the accords to both regulate and train the actual and the upcoming generations of superheroes. Tony's futuristic views had showed and taught the world to be prepared for what was to come, whether that danger was imminent or just an odd possibility. He had met the Guardians, Carol and Thor to wish them farewell and good luck in their respective endeavors, from protecting those in need across the universe to continue on rebuilding their new home out of home. Steve shared a few handshakes and an enthusiastic, bone cracking hug from Thor.

Some days he made himself busy. After the battle there were so many things to fix all around the world (and the universe, but Steve would leave that to Carol and the Guardians). So many things that needed to be repaired, such as the destroyed compound, society trying to get back on its feet, all those people looking for the loved ones that had vanished after the snap, the memorials of those who died as an indirect consequence of the mad Titan's doing.

At times Steve ran himself to the ground in his effort to stay occupied and pushing the dark thoughts to the back of his mind. He usually got worried looks from Bucky and yet another attempt from Sam to get Steve to seek help, but Steve's answer was always the same; a little lopsided, fake smile and a failed effort to convince them that he was okay, even though he knew he couldn't even convince himself.

Some of those days Steve couldn't even force himself to leave the bed. He had long since moved to one of the compound's many empty rooms, he had moved out there because he couldn't make it through the threshold of their old bedroom without bursting into tears. 

Their old bed was too big and the empty space on the left side of it was too evident for Steve to ignore. His clothes were still neatly organized in one side of the walk-in closet, his toothbrush was still right next to Steve's on the sink, and his ring was still resting on the left side table next to the bed, right where he had left it before leaving that morning, and he had never gotten back to wear it again. All those things he had left behind were just evidence of how much Steve had lost, and the pain of that loss was too great for him to stay in that room by himself anymore.

Some days he spent the time walking like a ghost around the compound, staring out the large windows into nothing. He did things out of habit, like a robot; wake up, go for a run, shower, force himself to eat and sustain minimal conversation, if at all. He ignored the looks he knew his teammates were giving him but they usually kept their distance. Steve guessed they did it out of respect, to give him the chance to deal with it on his own time and heal. But time passed and he didn't heal.

Then there were the darker days. The days in which he saw no purpose for himself. 

For the last few years of somewhat peace they had before Thanos came, it had been Steve's purpose to still defend the weak but he also had his friends, his team; the family that had come together out of a group of barely functional strangers, but also, he had his love. After all the pain and sacrifice he had left behind when he went into the ice, he had been given the chance to find love again, and he had taken into it without holding back. They had pushed through thick and thin together and made it. Steve had loved with all the strength of his very being, Steve had made his goal to make his love as happy as he possibly could and he thought he had succeeded in all the time they had together. It hadn't been easy to achieve, but it had felt natural to Steve, it had flowed and the chemistry they had had been effortless, as if meant to be.

But some things are too good to last forever and Steve couldn't let himself stop mourning and think on how lucky he had been to live that time with him,. How lucky he had been to be loved back by him, how fate had favored him and given him the chance to hold him in his arms, to have made love to him, to have looked into his eyes every morning and see himself reflected into them, to have seen his unguarded smile, to have made him laugh and to have hopes for a future together.

Some other days he dared to venture down into his workshop. The place had been left untouched, put right back as how it had been left before everything happened in a foolish effort to preserve what it had been. He had Friday even order the very same couch that had been commonly used as a place for Steve to sketch, for them to cuddle or for catnaps inbetween work. Some days Steve would lie down on it and tears would roll down his cheeks as he noticed how the scent familiar scents of his cologne and motor oil weren't there. In those days he would scream himself hoarse and cry himself to sleep, only to wake up and have that void in his chest grow bigger after realizing that was his reality now.

Some other days like these, were darker.

The sense of longing he had woken up with was specially strong so he dared to step into their old bedroom. Steve sat on the left side of the bed, reaching the gold band resting on the bedside table to run his thumb over the smooth surface while remembering how it had looked on his finger. And before he knew it, Steve was crying into the pillow, breathing in the lingering scent as he desperately tried to cling onto his memories of their time together.

Steve had tried to be strong for his friends and for everyone around him but sometimes the grief was stronger and pushed through, breaking the façade he had been trying to put around himself, the mask he wore in front of other to hide the empty shell of a man who lost half of his own self. His lips parted in a silent cry and he took a shaky breath that didn't seem to bring any air into his lungs because he felt like he was drowning. He sounded more like a wounded animal than the man everyone believed Steve Rogers was; stubborn, strong, brimming with determination.

Right there then there was nothing of that man, in that room lied a broken hearted man, soulless and tearing apart at the seams. He had tried to give hope when he had none, he couldn't see the silver linings right then, all he could feel was crippling, soul-shattering pain. His world crumbled down on him the moment he saw the life leaving his eyes as he held him. His future, his hope, his love was gone. How could he possibly go on after that? Where was he supposed to draw his strength from? How was he supposed to move on if he missed what he had so much he could barely function on a good day?

Steve didn't know for how long he was there but the pain didn't go away like other times. The tears seemed endless as they blurred his view and ran hot down his cheeks and no matter how many times he breathed he still couldn't get enough air into his lungs. He felt as if he was back into the ice, the freezing water all around him and getting into his lungs; he felt like drowning.

"... Steve?"

He could hear the voice as if someone were trying to talk underwater, and he just couldn't do anything, he couldn't move, couldn't talk, couldn't breathe.

"Hey... Hey, Steve." The voice sounded closer.

Someone touched him but he barely felt it, as if his senses were numb and everything was closing up on him. The feeling of despair and pain were too overwhelming for him to be able to focus on anything else, they wrapped around his throat like snakes trying to suffocate their prey, and they were winning.

"Help me move him." There was another voice, "Hey, Steve? We're going to move you, okay? We'll just help you sit" The voice spoke slow and clear, and soon enough he felt his own body being pulled up. "Hey, hey, hey, easy." The voice urged but the dizziness added to the turmoil of everything that was in his head made him react.

Steve held onto the person that was closest to him and tried to stand but his knees gave out, taking him down with a thud on the wooden floor, and he would've fallen harder but whoever he was holding to take some of his weight.

Opening his eyes he saw the blurry image of Bucky's worried face staring back at him, pale blue eyes looking somewhere to Steve's right, and soon there was a hand on his shoulder, squeezing and then rubbing his upper back.

"You have to breathe, okay? We don't want you passing out on us, buddy." The voice said, Sam, as Steve looked briefly at him before reaching out to Bucky, shaking hands grabbing onto the fabric of Bucky's shirt. "Breathe in five hold and out in seven, come on." Sam coached but Steve's mind couldn't focus.

"Please." The words that came from Steve's mouth could barely be understood in his desperate effort to breathe.

"Please, what?" Bucky asked, lowering down to kneel down to Steve's level on the floor, to what Steve took as an opening to reach out to hold onto Bucky for dear life.

"Please... I can't..." He struggled to speak out every word.

"Can't what, can't breathe?" Sam asked.

"I can't... Can't do this." The words came out from Steve's mouth with a heart-wrecking sob, "Not without him, I need him." He swallowed through the painful lump in his throat, face buried on the curve of Bucky's neck and shoulder, "Bring him back... Please, I want him back." He begged, broken and helpless.

 

And time passed and he didn't heal.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi (cry) on [tumblr](https://konoto.tumblr.com)
> 
> Also, I'm looking for a beta reader, so if you know any or you are one yourself and are willing to help me, hit me up on tumblr :)


End file.
